


How can you swallow so much sleep?

by fAaceTheFacts



Category: Original Work, The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Basically just the characters internal monologue, Dreams, Drowning, Fire, Gen, Gore, as they wait to be dug out of the ground, suicide but temporary and in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fAaceTheFacts/pseuds/fAaceTheFacts
Summary: Lessie wakes up, and they cannot open their eyes. They take a breath and find instead of air they inhale dirt, they claw feebly at the ground around them and are disappointed when they realize they can't dig themself out.
Kudos: 10
Collections: The Stowaways





	How can you swallow so much sleep?

Lessie wakes up, and they cannot open their eyes. They take a breath and find instead of air they inhale dirt, they claw feebly at the ground around them and are disappointed when they realize they can't dig themself out. If they could they would exhale sharply, instead they stop fighting and let the earth claim them. Temporarily, of course, they'll be dug up soon enough.

This dream is familiar to them. They stand on a burning world, the smell of cooking flesh and fresh blood rise to greet them, and a younger Lessie would have screamed. A younger Lessie had screamed, but the sight is somewhat of a comfort now. They stand slack, they take it in. The crew of the I-AM stands behind them, as always. They feel the eyes boring holes into the back of their neck, they survey the damage. The cityscape is all fire and bodies and blood, meat and gore. The buildings may have been beautiful once, Ashes had never said, but the only color here is red and orange and burnt burnt black. The scaffolding shifts and crackles, more screams join the choir.

Lessie takes a knee and reaches their hands into their chest. They pull out a chunk of something, probably a lung, along with a good helping of bones and flesh. Gently they place the pieces in the fire, they watch them burn. They cup their hands and partake of the gore.

When they wake up they are still underground.

They remember Webb told them about his mother once, in the quiet of night on the ship they'd boarded together. Hiding their mechanisms from the rest of the crew, planning rampages on whatever planet they came to next and shooting each other in the head. Damien had told them about his mother, and they had told him about their captain. Webb said nothing, and Lessie ran their fingers across their other hand. Webb simply looked at them, Lessie looked firmly away until webb pulled them in for a hug, and they stayed there on the floor at the foot of a bed for a good hour. They wonder what he's doing right about now, hopefully they'd find him again after someone digs 'em out of the ground.

They dream they're wandering the vast halls of the Aurora once more, hand gripped tight around their pistol. They breathe slowly and steadily, walk quiet as they can down the hall. They have to keep walking, find someone they can trust. Sharp, heavy footsteps echo through the corridors and Lessie freezes, their breathing slowed to a halt as their grip on their pistol tightens. Something is coming around the corner. They brace themself, make themself small. It's not surprising when they see their old beloved captain walk briskly around the corner, she looks down at them with a clinical eye, smiles and says, "Lessie dear, I've been looking everywhere for you! I was wondering if you'd mind lending me a hand? I'm having a little trouble."

The captain stands there with her hand extended, and slowly and deliberately, Lessie raises their pistol to just under their chin. They pull the trigger and wake up underground.

  
They wonder why they're even down here, they don't recall doing anything particularly heinous. Suppose if you commit enough murder and steal enough and you can't be contained people get desperate. Maybe they're a legend, are they feared? Do they give someone hope? That'd sure be interesting, giving someone hope. They remember sitting in an empty metal room and singing softly while the baron regrew the left side of his body, it looked painful. They remember sewing up so many of Damien's wounds, their hands soaked in his blood, trying to calm his incessant screams. They've sung to so many crowds, written so many poems. Yes, they'd like to think they've given hope to someone, but they aren't sure how that'd happen.

Times like these Lessie recalls the numerous times they've drowned. A good number of times they were waterboarded, but it's more common they tick someone off one too many times and suddenly their head is in a lake or a pond or a fountain and they can't breathe. 'S never pleasant, always strange. One time in particular sticks out right about now. Lessie'd figured it'd be nice to do some pirating in a new setting, hopped on an honest to god pirate ship. They'd kept their head low as the ship sailed along, made friends with the crew and observed the captain. Was a fair ship, but Lessie was bored. Turns out the friends they'd made weren't all that loyal to them, and they smiled as the air left their lungs and they plummeted through the sea in chains. 

In many ways drowning is very different than being buried alive. Your body wants so badly to float in water, while the pressure of dirt never gives you any hope of rising. The planet around you is oppressive and uncomfortably warm in the ground, hard to move even a little. Drowning always comes with a certain degree of freedom, they realize. When you drown you can thrash and flail and really make a show of it, there's a certain exhilaration, dirt gives no such pleasure. There are a few key similarities; the air leaving your lungs, the constant death and rebirth, the dreaming. Difference is with dirt, the show comes when you emerge.

The city again. Fire and blood and that awful smell that always, always, brings a smile to Lessie's face. the oppressive stench of melting flesh, burning and blackening, filling the lungs. The metallic edge of blood and the creeping scent of rot, they wipe their hands on their coat. The crew of the I-AM is nowhere to be found, the crew of the I-AM was never really standing behind them. They think they see the Captain, scattered about somewhere in this mess. They roll up the ends of their pants and wade into the city, they run their hands along the burning buildings, survey the melting statues. Their legs lead them to what they assume was the entrance to the acheron. The blood pools thick here, they lay down. The blood fills their lungs and clouds their vision, they wake up to a planet still gripping them tight. 

The next time Lessie rises from their slumber, it's to the sound of metal against metal, and the planet yielding to a shovel. They smile as much as they can under so many feet of dirt. Soon enough they're able to shift slightly again, their hand closes around the shovel, and their other hand finds a metal arm. They grin, pull themself out of the ground and stumble into the Drumbot. Lessie laughs and laughs, shakes the dirt off and climbs out, Brian close behind. A shame they don't have any new stories for him, but they'll enjoy seeing this plant crash and burn, metaphorically or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey if u read this thank u i would die for you


End file.
